


Emerald Seas That Burn

by Rosewater_53



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken | Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Falling In Love, Honestly too much purple prose (whoops)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25577833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosewater_53/pseuds/Rosewater_53
Summary: In the year that followed, Eliwood would lie awake at night, imagining that green sea and his inevitable drowning.  (Utterly trapped in the vortex, gasping for air he did not want).  The reality: he was suffocatingly enamored with a girl he had only known for a few hours of his seventeen years of breathing normally.--In which Eliwood loses much, but gains plenty too.
Relationships: Eliwood & Hector (Fire Emblem), Eliwood/Lyndis (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 26





	1. Slowly Wading

In hindsight, perhaps he should have been more attuned to the political implications of the situation and the murky origins of the lovely, demure Ninian. He probably should have looked at her more, interacted with her besides the bare minimum (though no small feat) of rescuing her. He probably should have investigated the ruffians who took who her. He probably should have done more to help the unusually (yet charming) assembled group: supplies, money, in-person assistance. 

There were a lot of things he should have done, but didn't. 

But later, when reminiscing on the curious circumstance, the only thing Eliwood clearly recalled was her eyes. 

Immediately, he scrambled to pen a letter, trying to secure allies to assist the lady. His words came spilling out of the ink, simple words vouching for her benevolence and kindness. 

_-The Lady Lyndis has more honor in the tips of her fingers than in Lord Lundgren’s entire body. The man has no true definition of honor; he cannot fathom what it means or looks like._

_-No, she does not act unnatural. She possesses utmost sincerity and strength. Sacaens do not lie after all, and I can assure you of her integrity._

_-She is beautiful-_ which he promptly crossed out, beginning a new letter. 

And so on. 

But really, the only meaningful argument to Eliwood was Lyndis’ eyes. Even though they came from her mother’s side, her eyes mirrored the boundless nature of the Sacaen Plains: absolute freedom and invigorating adventure. (In truth, Lady Madelyn’s had revealed all along her desires and temperament). They burned with immense passion and pride. They were eyes that needed no protection, but he would have offered it all the same. 

_Please, my lords,_ he thought, _we must preserve those emerald eyes._

In the year that followed, Eliwood would lie awake at night, imagining that green sea and his inevitable drowning. (Utterly trapped in the vortex, gasping for air he did not want). The reality: he was suffocatingly enamored with a girl he had only known for a few hours of his seventeen years of breathing normally. 

_But marriages have been built on less than that,_ Eliwood absentmindedly reasoned, and subsequently flushed red with mortification of how quickly these excuses came to him. 

Eliwood would inquire of the lady’s wellbeing in monthly requests to an amused and ultimately enabling Marcus. (His retainer was tickled at the young lord’s contradictory romantics: Eliwood found it inappropriate to send the girl direct letters, perhaps scared of what he may accidentally write, and yet obsessively asked about her to the point it was genuinely _not_ mannerly. Eliwood agreed with this, but could not be pushed to give a damn). He would continue to pursue news of Lyndis up until his father’s journey, where the monthly reports of foolish romance were replaced with an unnerving silence. 

__________________________

They sat around the dim fire, knees to their chests and hearts pounding from the previous scrimmage. Though, perhaps it was only Eliwood’s heart clanging against, what felt like, his entire body. Hector’s only thumped from the pressure and surprise of that dramatic merchant lurching for his bosom and latching on with a shocking amount of force. (Hector’s face was still pained). No, Eliwood’s heart pulsed in solitude to the rhythm of draining adrenaline and remembrance of a green sea miles away. 

Hector had been right about one thing, he supposed. It truly was too bad they were not stopping. But... he had said that in jest. Hector did not understand what was so enticing; he had entirely missed the excitement of last year, preparing for their duel that Eliwood was late for. He had lost that duel to Hector- rather horribly. His strikes were crooked and his parries ineffective. But his mind had been preoccupied with other _striking_ things. Now, in a moment of respite, he allowed himself to think about them again, and Eliwood closed his eyes with a knowing smile. 

__________________________

“Lyndis,” he whispered, and a distant look shadowed his face. To Hector, it seemed as if his friend had not moved his mouth at all. But he could not ignore the vulnerable utterance. 

Oswin paid him no mind. “Lord Hector," he asked, “What should we do?”

The lord opened his mouth to reply, but faltered at his friend’s increasingly worrisome disposition. Eliwood’s face was still, betraying no emotion, desperately trying to be a detached observer. But his eyes, damnit, his eyes. They were a conflicted storm- like the eyes of a drowning man. 

“They might still be alive, right?” Hector turned back to Oswin, who stoically nodded.

Then the choice was clear. “There’s only one thing we can do!”

Eliwood snapped out of his daze, regaining his wits and returned to the surface. “Hector!”

 _Hah, that was quick_. “We’re going to save them, Eliwood. I can promise that! Oswin, we’re setting off!” 

Their group congregated together, gathered their supplies, and started to advance. Hector wagered that some of them- _Serra-_ had never moved that fast in their entire life; a testament to how important this mission was. 

The rag-tag group began their rush to Castle Caelin while Hector wondered just how special this girl was.

__________________________

She stood along the edges of the ship, face tight and body tense. It was not from sickness nor the crisp air, but from the present company which reeked of taverns and steel. 

And yet, she was here. Begrudgingly and upset, but present nonetheless. 

Eliwood supposed that had to count for something.

Watching her silent fury, he began to feel a little guilty. Lyndis had been roped into the voyage to the Dread Isles, facing men in similar professions to those who massacred her people. Still, Fargus and his crew… if a band of pirates could be noble, they’d be it. Lyn refused to acknowledge that, preferring to turn away from any situation with them. She kept her distance; they respected it. 

“Please, don’t worry about me. We need to get to the Isles and this is the only way. Think of it as a necessary sacrifice,” she told Eliwood. 

He felt guilty. 

He had no regrets. 

As Eliwood stared at her, he wondered if he might be like Lyn someday. If he may soon understand her grief. If by some chance, his father… If they would find Lord Elbert quiet and ghastly and gone. Dead as Lord Helman now was, dead like Hector’s parents (whose faces Hector could hardly remember), dead as Lyndis’ tribe whose screams she could still hear, still see burning tears streaming down children’s cheeks, leaving scars (and then bereft of a long forgotten name she never thought she’d be called again).

Would Eliwood be alone? Of course not. He had his mother to share his potential sorrow, loyal retainers to keep him steadily standing, and his friends’ offered shoulders to lean on.

Would Eliwood be able to forget his father? No- he would see his father’s gentle eyes and soft smile every time he happened upon a mirror.

But the seeds of doubt and dread slivered their way into Eliwood’s heart all the same, taking root in its depths. 

Lyndis' hands were clenched tightly around the rim of the ship, tight enough that she probably had gained three splinters. Though, that pain did not stop her from squeezing harder; an imaginary strangulation. 

A chill made its way from one end of the boat to the other, and Eliwood shuddered. _We’ll find him, he’ll be fine. We’ll find him,_ **_we’ll_ ** _be fine._

Lightheaded, he tried to focus on the harsh gray waves rocking back and forth. An endless cycle. 

Eliwood was thankful he was not prone to seasickness.

__________________________

Lord Elbert was dead. 

Lord Elbert was dead and his only son did not get to bury him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eliwood makes me feel things. Eliwood and Lyn together make me feel things. Therefore, it was inevitable that I would create such a travesty. Thank you for indulging me!


	2. The Swim

They departed from Badon with heavy hearts, but they were not weighed down; a new resolve was ignited in all. The fearsome image of that behemoth dragon: its strong and lethal jaw, sharp, glossy scales that could cut the toughest diamond, and its immense, fiery power… It made the threat of Nergal that much more severe. And Eliwood knew that Elibe would never realize it until dragons swarmed the skies, raining down terror and destruction on its people.

That thought made him more sick than no longer having a father.

_ Lord Uther must be made aware.  _

If anyone could lend assistance, it would be Hector’s brother, the marquess of Ostia; shrewd, wise, and a self-made, hardworking leader. And if they moved fast enough, Ostia was only a week's time away from Khathelet. 

_ Just a little farther.  _

However, little distance mattered not when faced with a nearing dusk, low morale, aching muscles, and eyes struggling to stay open. Eliwood knew this unfortunate fact. If it had been just him, he would have continued the trek to Ostia- blisters and weakness be damned. The pain in his feet would numb the grief in his heart and the anxieties regarding future calamity swirling around in his mind. But Eliwood was not alone (which, in truth, he was very thankful for) and, thus, had to set up camp for the night.

His “soldiers,” greatly pleased by the chance to relax, took it upon themselves to liven up the sullen atmosphere:

Twist, turns, and the occasional chaste kiss exchanged by pairs sweet on each other, Lucius and Canas sharing tales of old, not suitable for the faint-hearted, by the campfire, Marcus and Merlinus teaming up to distribute delectable sweets (which Serra had found a way to mostly seize, splitting them between her and Nils), and dance after dance. Even those normally stoic and grim freely joined the revelry. (Sain had spent a surprisingly dedicated thirty minutes dragging Fiora onto the “floor.” She put up much resistance, but none could deny the soft, though small, smile she had afterwards). Eliwood also took part in a few dances: some sort of messy, informal jig with Hector, a fun, fast-paced group dance from Ilia, an intimate, close waltz with Ninian. 

His feet were now numb in other ways, but perhaps it was better than exerting himself past his limits. Perhaps.

“Everyone,” Eliwood announced once the fire had finally begun to dim, “We leave early next morning for Ostia. Please be sure to rest well and be ready for our departure. I’m counting on all of you to lead us to the Marquess.” He took a shaky breath. “That is all. Have a good night."

A well-meaning cacophony of farewells and best wishes rang out as the group scattered, leaving only Eliwood standing alongside a few others.

“Hector,” said Eliwood, “Has your brother received news of our meeting?” 

His friend winced like he’d been stabbed. “Yep.” 

"And?"

"I think," Hector said slowly, "that Uther is going to meet us outside of Ostia. The castle and its surroundings are filled with foreign spies and the like, and my brother understands that this information cannot fall into unsavory hands. He hasn't said _when_ exactly, but we'll know in a matter of days." 

A smile crept its way onto Eliwood’s face. “And was that  _ all  _ he said?”

“Eliwood!” Hector’s eyes narrowed as his complexion grew red. Well, as red as one can look with only the stars serving as light. 

“Hah! I jest my friend.” Eliwood amicably patted Hector’s shoulder. “You should get some rest, now. You will need it once you face Uther.”

“Ha.” Hector ‘tenderly’ ripped Eliwood’s hand off him. He walked away, faintly muttering, “Don’t I know it.” 

A giggle released from somewhere behind Eliwood. He quickly turned around, searching for its source. “Lyndis? Were you here this whole time?”

She sheepishly grinned. “Forgive me, I couldn't help myself. I meant to talk with you earlier, but then I saw you were with Hector, and well… You see, I had bested him in dancing, and I doubt he would have had anything nice to say.”

_ They turned dancing into a competition? _ "You two certainly never run out of energy."

“Hm, that is one way to put it.” She did not seem very amused at the notion. (She and Hector always took their petty squabbles too seriously). 

"You said you wanted to speak with me?"

“Yes,” Lyn looked around the camp, furrowing her brows. “I was going to ask you to go riding with me, but I suppose that isn’t the most well-thought out idea. Would a walk do instead?”

_A walk? It is rather late, but she would not have asked me if it were not important..._

"Of course, Lyndis." 

She started to walk into the neighboring wooded area with her green, silky hair trailing behind. Eliwood jogged to catch up with her. 

"Where are we headed?" he asked. 

"Nowhere too far.” Lyn's focus was on navigating through the untouched forest, its ground littered with leaves and uneven, jagged roots and sticks. 

"Alright..." Eliwood resigned himself to the fact he probably would not know until they arrived. Whenever that may be. 

After a few minutes traversing through the forest (her: skillfully moving with a purpose, him: blindly wandering where her steps once were), Lyn stopped. “There.” 

Eliwood faced to where she pointed, eyes widening as he took it all in. 

It was a small patch of land, cleared of any trees or bushes, like a miniscule meadow. There were flowers, seemingly scattered, and grown wildly and naturally; their patterns odd to the cultured vision of a noble used to intricately designed gardens of manicured flora. Though, Eliwood rather preferred these- grown without the meddlesome touch of man. 

"This is beautiful, Lyndis." 

Her features perfectly matched the sublime, blue-green glow of the meadow. She looked at peace. She looked at home. “Isn’t it? I briefly came across it last year. I begin to feel restless when I’m not surrounded by nature and,” she inhaled deeply, as if breathing in life, “that earthy scent.” 

It did smell wonderful. 

Lyn walked around the meadow, appreciating its serene beauty, and plopped down on an apparently suitable spot. She patted on the ground beside her, glancing back at Eliwood. “Sit with me, won’t you?”   


Eliwood obliged, carefully lowering himself. He was not averse to the dirt and grass- he just wasn’t particularly used to it. “What did you wish to speak about?”

Lyn turned her gaze to him, her own eyes piercing into Eliwood’s. “You.” 

"I... beg pardon?"

“I’m worried about you, Eliwood.” Her face softened as lines of concern streamed down her skin. 

He was suddenly gripped by the desire to be anywhere else _but_ here. “Lyndis, I-” 

“I know you’re hurting. I know you’re putting on a brave face. I know you are pushing yourself for everyone’s sake. But all of that comes with the sacrifice of your own well-being. Your eyes, Eliwood...Hector and I discussed this. They are similar to how mine once were . They look dead, defeated.” She paused for a moment, thickly swallowing. (He did not know what it was exactly- a need to release tears or to not release specific thoughts). 

“I- we- wished for you to never know this pain,” she said simply.

Eliwood stared at her blankly, waiting for her to continue. 

Lyn gently took his hand and a subtle flash of surprise sparked in her emerald eyes. While firm, his hands were incredibly soft- nothing like her own (calloused and weathered by the blade and the sun). "You are the kindest, strongest man I've ever known. And yet..."

She was very close to Eliwood now. So close, that if he were to slightly bend down, his cheek would touch her ear. 

"And yet, you do not need to bear this burden alone."

"Lyndis," he murmured. 

“Hector and I- no-  _ everyone _ . We are all here for you, Eliwood, no matter what. I'm sorry to say, but you cannot shake us from you just yet. We are all beside you, every step of the way, and I am _not_ going anywhere." 

She smiled and the green sea's tide came to drag Eliwood back into its waters. 

He blinked heavily. “Thank you, Lyn.” 

She opened her mouth, looking as though she was about to say something else, but decided against it. Instead, she slowly lowered her head onto his shoulder, melting into him. They sat together there for a while, surrounded by a meaningful silence. Ample understanding filled the void of conversation. 

When they got back to the camp, they were the only ones still awake (barring Marcus and Kent, ever on guard). All others had made the wise decision to retire, which was more than the pair could say. _How hypocritical I must look._

Eliwood took his time walking Lyn back to her quarters, enjoying the feeling of her next to him. 

“Thank you again, Lyndis. You have no idea what benefit your words have done me." 

His companion brightly smiled, bright enough that the pitch-black darkness did not matter. “Anytime.” 

The utter warmth in her voice made Eliwood pause his would-be step away. His mind halted all coherent thoughts, failing to keep his mouth in check. Without rational thinking, Eliwood was free to say any thoughts that appeared before him. 

"Lyn!" he exclaimed. 

A bit startled, with her hand raised and on her tent, she turned back to Eliwood. “Uh, yes?”

“I am glad that you are with me.”

"I-i,"

“That is, to say, here in Khathelet. We, um, we met here.”

Lyn squinted, seemingly caught-off guard. Nonetheless, she regarded him fondly. “That we did. It seems like such a lifetime ago.”

“It truly does.” 

The quiet stillness of the night emerged once more, leading Eliwood to assume their conversation had finished. Until- 

"I used to hate nobles."

He looked at Lyn, but she did not continue and he did not know where she had planned to go with it. Funny how a single statement can completely transform an exchange; Eliwood had tensed with the anticipation of a horrid thing, positive or negative. "And... do you still?"

"No,"  she walked up to him and grasped his hand. Eliwood slightly stiffened, but ultimately welcomed her touch (a cool, refreshing breeze, not unlike what he imagined riding through the Sacaen plains would feel like). Lyn ran her fingers across his palm, tracing faint, delicate scars. “Because then I met you.” 

_ Oh.  _

"Oh."

“Goodnight, Eliwood.”

The waves then withdrew from the shore, leaving him cold and sputtering on the sand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!! I can only hope that it was somewhat worth it (Ha!) and that Eliwood isn't too ooc. But if he is, let me know! Thanks again!


	3. A Plunge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Taking artistic liberties with supports and events? Using copious amounts of nature metaphors?  
> It's more likely than you think. 
> 
> (Note: some of the dialogue used is lifted from Eliwood and Lyn's A support- with some additions).

He did not know what to make of the last forty-eight hours. Eliwood- he was a kind man, but not an ignorant one. 

Corruption freely coursed through the nobility’s veins, just as blood ran through others’. (Ingrained, hereditary, callous sin, after all, is what turns the blood blue). He was aware of this. Truly. But the things they witnessed in Bern… behind its rejoicing celebratory facade were the sinister politics: an assassin lurking in the still night, figuratively, and, well, now literally. The dichotomy of the two Berns: one belonging to the insatiable old regime under the king, and the other- bright and destined for a golden era under the prince, brimming with youth… the contrast was jarring, astonishing, and a painful stab of reality. 

_ Zephiel.  _

He felt remorse for the prince’s plight, always looking to please, to impress, to prove himself worthy. He had done so in the eyes of the people, _his_ _people;_ they were cheering for his coming of age ceremony, were they not? And yet, Zephiel had failed continuously in the critical eyes of his father. Thus, the cycle was born, pleasing a father who would never be pleased and would never return affection. Eliwood was remorseful, but he had no pitying thoughts to offer. No, his pity was reserved for the queen. The beautiful, beautiful Queen Hellene who had stepped right out of a painted Eturian masterpiece; a woman who possessed the most pleasing of features that painters and bards only dreamed about. (Desmond was still not satisfied). Hellene, whose hair  was spun from gold, eyes crafted from gemstones, and heart hardened from the cold Bern air and even crueler men. 

Eliwood did not know what to think. 

Hellene’s last action- should he even dare to humor the notion of hope and redemption in the inner-workings of the palace? 

(The answer: no, but Eliwood was a kind man. How could he have known what was to come?) 

He lightly traced the map rewarded to him by the queen. It was ancient, faded from over the long years, as if it had spent decades chipped away by the sun. The map looked no more than old leather, but its worth far exceeded anything Eliwood had ever touched. He tried to keep his focus on its details, but his mind drifted, lingering on memories that engendered unrest. The darkness right before the saving gleam of dawn, the rush of heat to his ears, and hair raised by the smoking and shocking bolts of thunder, the malicious, hard edges of King Desmond’s face, revealing his vengeful envy, and nonchalant manner discussing his son’s would-be murder. 

"Eliwood."

Bern was sick to its core, rotting from the inside, and spreading its disease outward. Would the prince be the cure? Was Zephiel enough to combat what Desmond had already started? If he were to-

“ _ Eliwood _ .”

"Hm?"  Lyn had rode up against him, patiently waiting for his attention. He flushed, wondering how long he had been away from the present.  _ Now isn’t the time for such thoughts. _ “My apologies, Lyndis. Is something the matter?”

She shook her head. “I was only wondering if I could see the map.” 

“Oh, uh...yes, of course.” He handed her the artifact, her fingers brushing up against his- too long to be a coincidence. 

He tried hard not to think about it. 

The Bern mountains were certainly intimidating, but Eliwood found it, beyond the jagged edges of rock and daunting heights, to be exceedingly breathtaking. (Their company found the sights breathtaking as well, but some... in other ways. Poor Lowen was stuck in a perpetual cycle of desperately stifling sneezes, failing to preserve any amount of his decorum or secrecy). 

Those new to Bern all beheld its exterior with some sense of awe- or irritation- but Lyn remained unbothered, used to the sights and sounds of the rustlings leaves and a blinding sun.

She was flourishing. 

She was so unlike the stuffy noblewomen Eliwood had been expected (forced) to associate with, humor thoughts of futures with. They were dainty, mild flowers groomed to be dainty, mild wives and mothers. Noblewomen: fueled through porcelain cups of tea, mirroring their own porcelain faces, and expertly cultivated in a garden to match everything else. (And while that wasn't a bad thing, it certainly wasn't very interesting). 

But Lyndis shunned those manipulative hands. She grew through the sun, with the flowing grass unchecked and ivy restlessly climbing. A place of beauty in the harshest of places, like a single wondrous flower thriving on the top of the Ilia cliffs. 

(Eliwood surprised himself with such romantic, wordy thoughts, and had the decency to be embarrassed). 

“To think such a monument was hidden by the mountains this entire time,” Lyn remarked with a careful eye on the map, but putting far more attention on the moss-paved path.

“We were certainly fortunate that Queen Hellene assisted us,” Eliwood said, following her gaze. “Though, I think we would have found this shrine one way or another. Your tracking skills are quite remarkable!” 

Lyn handed the map back to him. An odd expression graced her face. “Well, perhaps.” Her eyes drifted back to the forest, searching for something he did not think was there.

“Eliwood?”

“Yes?” 

“I don’t- I don’t understand it.” 

He didn’t need a specification. Eliwood immediately knew what she was referring to, but he'd let her explain it on her own terms. “Pardon?”  


Lyn smiled ruefully, bitterness seeping through. “I am aware I'm not a perfect noble- far from it- and that the court mocks me for that. Even if I performed the necessary steps,  _ like  _ a perfect noblewoman, I still would not be accepted. I don't pretend to understand the nobility and its ways, manners and… shrewd politics, but…” She made a disgruntled noise. “Perhaps it is best that I do not.”

“I think that is one of the qualities I find most admirable about you, Lyndis.”

“You may be one of the few.” 

Eliwood frowned. “It’s not like you to be so self-critical.”

“I- you’re right,” Lyn sighed, “Frankly, after all the things we’ve witnessed, I am a little  _ relieved _ I don’t fit in with the nobility, especially the worst of it. Still, I cannot imagine it is easy on my grandfather…” She left that thought linger for a moment, before quietly saying, “Eliwood, what we saw in Bern- it frightened me.” 

The smell of thunder, the sinister dark, the rotting core… a family so ruined that their interactions could only be considered warfare.

“We… were all shaken by what transpired, most of us shocked by it.”

“And are you? Shocked, that is?” Lyn’s face was neutral, but there was an expectant light in her eyes, anticipating his response. Perhaps she was seeking reassurance of the morality of the nobility…. Or maybe nothing at all, waiting just to hear his voice. 

“No,” Eliwood closed his eyes, not wanting to see if the light had disappeared from her own, “I am not.” 

__________________________

Fear was an interesting concept.

If he was being honest, Eliwood was a bit envious of Hector. Hector did not look towards the future. He minded it, of course, but he’s much too involved with the immediate for it to be a pressing concern. Instead of anxiously awaiting the future, Hector would jump to take action, helping those in the present. That is something to be admired, Eliwood thinks. Doing what you can now to help those _in_ the now _._

Eliwood wished he could be that way too, not as worried for the future, obsessed with the ‘what-ifs?’ (Though, purely hypothetical situations do tend to haunt the mind). It’s not a bad quality, by any means. Just a difference of mindset. Of course, if someone was in need, he would lend assistance. But his first thoughts were not to the present; instead, they strived to protect the future and those in it. (Failing in that- now  _ that  _ was his fear). Hector acted to help the now, Eliwood acted to help the coming minutes, hours, days, and years, praying that he alone will suffer for it.

The effects of his deeds take time to surface.

But like always, Eliwood was a patient man. 

__________________________

He did not like to make assumptions- even well-informed ones. But Eliwood could safely say that Lyndis and Hector, as much as they bickered and squabbled, were very much alike. Even regarding fear. She, too, acted with the purpose of protecting the present. Though, Lyndis was not impatient like Hector; she preferred to savor and live in each moment as they came. Like the wind of the plains cemented in her heart, she continued on. She did not stop or waver, as the plains are free and wide. 

But the wind halts at the towering, solemn castles made of stone and iron, unable to enter, and the sea is blocked by the overpowering and overwhelming dam. 

Lyndis was concerned with the present. But now, she was afraid of the future, of what comes after Lord Hausen’s passing. 

__________________________

She moved as if she was the wind herself. Elegant and fierce, she jabbed at all of Eliwood’s defenses. Trying to find an opening, she danced all around him, using techniques that would take years to perfect. A natural in her element. He could hardly look away, finding himself mesmerized by her talent and grace. Eliwood had always felt his offensive skills left much to be desired, and Lyndis’ ability only reinforced that opinion. 

He didn't mind it. 

“I didn't think it possible, but you have gotten much better since our last match!” Eliwood exclaimed, still a bit out of breath. “I’ll have to do my best not to fall behind! I suppose I wouldn’t be much help then, would I?”

Lyn weakly laughed. “I don’t think I’m as good as you think I am, Eliwood, but thank you. Besides, that’s nonsense; you are an integral part of this company. There’s no one I’d sooner trust than you.”

He flushed, but to any onlooker, it was just an effect of their spar. “Oh! Well, that is kind of you to say, Lyndis.”

She shrugged, sheathing her sword. “It’s the truth. Though, I  _ guess _ it helps that you’re good at sparring too.”

“Ha!” She was teasing him. He supposed he was a rather easy target. “About as good as you all push me to be.” 

“Right...” Lyn said, her voice faltering at the end, losing its previous mirth. Her lips deflated into a tight, thin line. “You know… about sparring… I was wondering if you might teach me something else?”

_ What? _

“Something else?” That had made him pause, silently considering her intentions. What could she want _him_ to teach her? 

She nodded slowly, quiet and hesitant, and then a sudden release, like a dam bursting: “I’m not anything like a lady!” 

It seemed that her sudden exclamation startled even her, as she took a step back. Gathering herself, Lyn began:

“Ladies are supposed to be many things- polite, modest, pretty, delicate- everything I’m not! They are supposed to bring their families pride, honor, and prestige… all I bring my grandfather is the nobility’s ridicule,” she spat, barely concealing the venom in her words. “I hate having to fight for acceptance and respect, having to acquiesce to their demeaning glares and disapproval… But I...  fear the thought of my Sacaen blood bringing my grandfather shame even more.

"You weren't there," she continued, " but a year ago, Marquess Araphen revoked his aid because… because I was  _ tainted  _ with the blood of Sacae. While I would have never accepted help from someone so awful, I am not so ignorant to believe he was an anomaly within the nobility. My grandfather accepted me- most nobles will not.”

Lyn took deep breaths, trying to calm herself down as Eliwood searched for the words to say. He was disgusted by the callous attitudes of the nobility and the way they made his friend feel, but, unfortunately, she was  _ right.  _ Many things came freely to the nobility: justice,  _ greed _ , benevolence,  _ corruption- _ and prejudice reigned above them. Lyn would face much difficulty among the houses of Lycia, even though she was more worthy than the lot of them combined. (Afterall, plenty of Darins had been plaguing the higher class for generations; an endless breeding of arrogant folly). But to hear her say such self-demeaning things, to hear her despair and frustration- it made Eliwood’s chest burn, scorching with fury. 

“Hmph. You sound shy- nothing like the Lyndis I know!”

She stopped her pacing, somewhat taken aback. “What _? _ ”

“Are you telling me you’re ashamed of your heritage?”

“...N-no, I-” She made motions to continue, but Eliwood swiftly cut her off. 

“When I first saw you in Khathelet, I thought, what strength she has in her eyes.” They were as green as the boundless plains, as the breathtaking sea. An intense color, blazing with great passion and drive, chilling him to the bone. The hue had burned brightly in his memory ever since. “I seem to remember, Lyndis, back then, you didn’t know what to think of your Lycian blood. It was a fact, bearing little importance in your heart. It may have brought you to your grandfather, and yet, that is where its impact ended. But the Sacae blood in you… for that you had nothing but the purest pride.  _ That  _ is who you are. And that’s the person I-” Eliwood paused. “That’s the person I’m fortunate enough to call my companion. You don’t have to be like anyone else, Lyndis. You’re already more than enough.” 

Lyn was silent, staring at Eliwood with wide eyes. Slowly, she began to smile. “Yes… you’re right. I guess- I guess I lost myself.” Her eyes crinkled with fondness, as if she was reminiscing about the plains. “Thank you, Eliwood. I feel better, somewhat.”

And he knew that she was telling the truth. “There’s no need to thank me.” 

“No, there is,” she said. “I once told you I used to despise the nobility. Do you remember?”

He couldn’t have forgotten that night even if he had tried. 

“I cannot say I agree or even like most of them, but… I realized, when I met you, that they can also be kind- even wonderful. You… you believed in me. You helped me."

_ Yes, because what could a man believe in, if not someone as honorable as you? As talented and delightful? As trustworthy and earnest? A great person and an even greater friend, there to lift everyone up, supporting them when their knees begin to buckle?  _

“Hey, I would not have made it this far without your help, too. You… are a dear friend. And this is what friends do!”

After all, his companions, stalwart and true, were the only reason he now stood where he did. For the sake of their futures, and to honor his father’s final wish, Eliwood would continue on, stopping at nothing to gain the power needed to defeat Nergal. 

“Now shall we?”

Lyn replied with a determined smile of her own. “Let’s go!” 


	4. Gray Waves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with other chapters, some of the dialogue is lifted from in-game scenes. Specifically, parts of Chapter 29 and 29x of Eliwood's Story. 
> 
> Again, thank you for reading!

The way in which Durandal took control was an odd sensation. Eliwood felt the power coursing through him, spreading like wildfire. Burning. It flowed so freely, so naturally, as if he'd been destined for it. That feeling- a validation? Proof of virtue and drive? Eliwood supposed, too much in awe to think when the blade started glowing. 

And there was the problem. 

He didn't think. 

Like a marionette on strings, a puppet, he acted. (Like a _morph_ ). His body was there. _He_ was not. 

He didn't **think**. 

And with a single swing, she collapsed. 

__________________________

Numb. 

That's all he felt. 

The blade was slick with blood, and it dripped down with an agonizing slowness. 

What had it all been for? To paint the land with a bright crimson? To put fate in his incapable palms, _Roland had been_ wrong _to accept him_ \- only for Eliwood to open the door to more tragedy? With all of his missteps, it seemed he was just clearing the path for Nergal's eager, greedy hands and delirious ambitions. 

The many, _endless_ , names of those returned to the country of origin, and now Ninian's was added to that ever-growing list. Died in vain ( _murdered_ ), Eliwood's ignorance be damned! 

How incredible she looked: a chilling entity whose image had only been captured among the likes of the magnificent paintings lining the halls of noble castles. In truth, he wasn't frightened. But the panicked exclamations, the surprise flickering in Athos' eyes, and his adrenaline all dulled his senses and fueled the innate purpose- desire- of the dreadful blade. But even in death, Ninian remained gracious. Just once, he wish she could have been selfish. 

For her, that was never an option. 

How cruel of him to rid them of what little good they had and what little family Nils had left. 

_“Get yourself together, Eliwood!”_

He wanted to scream. 

In privacy, Eliwood settled for despairing sobs. 

Part of him- part of him thought he might have loved her. He was fond of her, had admired her strength throughout everything and her love for her brother. His feelings could have developed into something _more_. Something definite. Eventually the feelings- no, the _certainty_ \- would have appeared. Now, he'd never know. 

All that was sure were her amber eyes, relieved and shimmering with tears, the blood slipping through his fingers, Nil's screams, his apologies falling on deaf ears, and that Ninian... was dead. 

Though, there was another looming fact.

Eliwood feared Durandal. Feared the threat of a deadly, controlling power, its ancient influence ready to take a hold of him at any instant. When he next wielded the blade, what would happen? If the flames consumed another, he wouldn't be able to stop it. He wasn't _strong_ enough. When his consciousness returned, would he open his eyes to a friend hanging off the end of the sword? Could the flames spread across the battlefield, burning even the sea? 

He did not want to find out. 

So Eliwood practically threw Durandal to a bewildered Merlinus, terrified of the damage he could unleash. Without it in hand, he could do no further harm. What he did with his own hands was reprehensible, but at least, until it was time to face Nergal, Eliwood was free from the blade’s burning temptation. 

Yet, at night, alone with only his thoughts and his mask discarded, Eliwood’s side was cold. It _ached._ It was engulfed with a pain that not even their most skilled healer could relieve. It was a hunger only one thing could satisfy. 

Eliwood desired the presence of the Durandal. 

The seemingly sentient blade had bewitched him with the promise of strength beneath the crackling of flames. 

Eliwood didn’t sleep that night. 

__________________________

He was staring at nothing. 

Briefly, Lyn thought of what Hector told her, before Athos appeared and before the quiet of the throne room was ruined by the frantic stumbling of panicked soldiers. 

“Eliwood,” Hector had said, “doesn’t make his feelings known. _Tch_ , he tries to hide them so we don’t worry, but still… He picks up so many burdens that he can hardly walk.”

Was Eliwood’s despondent silence a result of the exhaustion finally settling in? 

Lyn sighed. Well, when he was ready to talk about what happened, she would be there to listen. _If he would just take off his mask_ \- but she knew it wasn’t fair to force him. It had to be on his own terms. And if he won’t accept them, she’ll just have to be there for him- to be his tears or his shield. Whichever he needed. 

“Eliwood?” Lyn tentatively called out. 

Gradually, he straightened, unfurling like a bent, sharp blade of grass. Eliwood’s eyes were glazed over. Blurred. She doubted he even saw her. “What?”

“Don’t… overexert yourself.”

Eliwood slowly blinked at her, and closed his eyes. “I’m fine.” When he opened them, he was staring at something behind Lyn. But she knew besides the stone of the castle walls, there was nothing there. 

His face hardened, hands immediately drifting to the hilt of his sword. “I’m not _that_ weak.” 

She didn’t know what to say. 

Eliwood’s grimace deepened. “We need to go to our posts. If I let Nergal’s ilk take control over Castle Ostia…” 

“ _We_ won’t let that happen. Let’s go.” Lyn shot a last quick glance at Eliwood and made her way out the chamber door. He followed shortly after. 

And then the battle began. 

She hadn’t noticed it before, but there was a certain beauty to the aged halls of Ostia. One didn’t enter the castle and _not_ realize its significance. The fortress smelled like history, commanding respect and reverence from nobles to commoners alike. She hated most noble structures, feeling intimidated and _small_ by their enclosing walls. But Ostia was large. All felt dwarfed by its towering bricks, making sure that no one was lofted above. They stood on equal footing. And that, well, she liked _that_. 

The stone was coated in a rich, dark blue that glowed violet in the blood splatter. Lyn hardly had time to admire it before another morph came charging at her. 

The swing of its axe came down She dodged. Another attempt, and she countered it with her blade. She wouldn’t win through her strength alone, so she swiftly fell to her side, rolling underneath the warrior. The steel of her blade went crashing into its side, barely managing to make it stumble. But stumble it did, and Lyn grinned. She could work with that. 

Within seconds, her sword was plunged in its chest, and a stream of dust rushed into her face. 

“Beautiful work, Lady Lyndis! Your swordplay is as elegant as ever!” Above the hectic noise of the battle, her partner's voice rang out. In its typical context, she would have groaned, but it was welcome compared to the cacophony of clashing metal.

Lyn gave a small smile. “Thank you, Sain.” 

“Truly, no one in this army is half as-”

He suddenly faltered, leaving his compliment unfinished. Sain _never_ leaves a compliment unfinished. 

Concerned, Lyn tightly gripped her sword and turned around. She was expecting a surprise attack. 

She didn’t expect to see a one-sided assault. 

Slashing away at the seemingly endless pile of morphs was Eliwood. A frown stretched across his face as he pierced them, one by one. He was pale- _like a morph himself_ \- but his sword went through the enemy all the same. 

Sain stared questioningly at him. 

“He…” Lyn felt her mouth go dry. “He’ll be okay, Sain. We should focus on the others.”

The knight considered her words. “... Alright,” he would have been a fool to ignore her, “as you wish, my lady.” 

Yet despite her command, Lyn kept a close eye on Eliwood, perhaps more than on the actual battle itself. And if she afforded him only a small glance, her conclusion would have been positive. His movements were fine. He was fighting well. But each time he picked up his sword, he winced, and that didn’t go unnoticed by her.

Halfway through the battle, Eliwood switched to his lance. The severe frown stayed on his face, but his slight hesitation was gone… 

(During their spars, swords were Eliwood’s weapon of choice, and he _never_ paused his strikes). 

He only recently wielded a lance. 

While not unfamiliar with the weapon, a sword was easier to hold and lighter to boot. But a lance he used, regardless. 

Lyn’s hand wrapped around her blade’s hilt. She made no moves to draw it. 

Looking from her weapon to Eliwood’s cold, steely eyes, Lyn carefully pulled an arrow from her quiver. 

A storm of arrows rained from the walls of Castle Ostia. 

__________________________

After the battle, Hector emerged from the throne room, beaten and ghastly pale. He sent a quick, acknowledging nod to Lyn and wordlessly left. 

He had been quiet. And from Lyn’s (albeit limited) experience, Hector was hardly quiet so he must have had a _very_ intense conversation with Oswin. 

Dread swirled in her heart. 

But at least Hector’s eyes still flared with anger and a torrent of emotions- a stark contrast to Eliwood’s dull, blank gaze. 

__________________________

He gave Durandal to Lord Athos. 

And the relief he felt was immeasurable. When the time came, he would wield it again, ready to avenge his father and Ninian. He’d be prepared to strike down Nergal, and by the burning itch in his hand whenever his thoughts wandered to the sinister man, Eliwood wagered the sword was ready too. If he couldn’t defeat or even scratch him, he didn’t care. He’d face Nergal down as his father did before, and try his damnedest to stop him. That was the only thing keeping Eliwood going. 

But the time had not yet come, and during the morning after they received their invitation to the Dread Isle, they gathered in town to prepare for the upcoming descent. 

Most recognized it as battle preparations, but some- 

“Shopping trip!” Serra exclaimed, bouncing excitedly through the crowds. It seemed, even on the outskirts of town, one could see a blur of bright pink rushing from one side to another. She pushed her way to the shops as a disgruntled Erk trailed behind. An apologetic Lucius stayed to clean her mess. 

Some things never change. 

Apologies, roars, and shrieks echoed throughout the town, brightening up an already lively atmosphere. Seeing his friends in a (now seemingly rare) state of happiness, Eliwood felt the beginnings of a smile. It had been a while before he was able to muster up one. The corners quickly dropped once he saw Hector. 

Hector was chatting with Marcus. He had on a small smile and a thoughtful gaze, and Eliwood didn’t know quite what it was- maybe the slight angle of Hector’s eyebrow or the way his hand rested on his hip- but something was wrong. 

In truth, his friend wasn’t acting too differently. Perhaps to Lyn, Hector seemed normal. But Eliwood had known him for most of their lives, and their friendship began with dedication. In childhood, the oath they swore in which clasping each other’s hands equated to a pledge of loyalty- that was the start. Eliwood still remembered how it felt- the sting of his hand against Hector’s, and how his bloodied one holding Erik’s lacked any feeling. While only Eliwood’s blood had mixed with the crimson of Erik’s, his bond with the Ostian lord proved truer. From that day on, they considered themselves family, and Hector didn’t even need to cut himself for a faulty, childish oath. They were family, and they knew each other in and out. 

And so, while he didn’t know what it was, Eliwood knew _something_ was wrong. 

He’d have to ask Oswin later. 

“What in the world?”

Lyn’s eyes were practically falling out of their sockets as she listened with a flabbergasted interest to Marcus and Hector’s conversation. Ah. They were discussing Ostian economics, which Eliwood had unconsciously tuned out. But he supposed it was another sign of ill-brewing because Hector looked uncharacteristically grim. 

Lyn just looked shocked. 

She turned to Eliwood with her eyebrows raised and her mouth clamped shut. He gave her a knowing smile. 

“... So some groups view my brother with enmity.” 

Hector's voice slightly faltered. _That was odd._ Both looked back at him, catching the end of the conversation. 

“I must grow wiser so that I can sit at my brother’s side and aid him… Of course, my fighting skills are not yet what they should be...” 

Lyn grew quiet.

Eliwood grew quiet. 

His scar, where he had cut his hand so many years ago, began to itch. He tried to think- Uther- why wasn’t he at the castle? He had business in Ostia. Hector had been surprised, but it _was_ normal for Uther to conceal things for wariness of spies. So then, why did Oswin barely blink at the news? Could Lord Uther… ? 

Eliwood shook his head. He shouldn’t let his pessimism make hasty assumptions. He’ll just have to ask Oswin. 

Hector and Marcus continued their talk, making their way to the armory. Eliwood frowned. Marcus’ eyes were deep in thought, and there was a sort of softness Eliwood, throughout his years, had never been able to place. But he knew the look on Marcus’s face well. He had worn it when Eliwood shattered his mother’s favorite vase while pretending to be a knight (a short-lived dream), and when offering advice to fresh-faced squires. He wore it observing Eliwood’s court lessons, instructing him with a sword, when watching Elbert take Eliwood's hand (and how he used to _reach_ ) through the gardens. In any event requiring his dedication, careful words, or cautious warnings, he wore it. 

Like when delivering the news of Elbert's disappearance.

Squinting, Lyn watched them leave. “Curious.”

“What is it, Lyndis?” 

“Hector,” she said. “He acts like such a brute, but even he takes his duties seriously...” 

Eliwood smiled. “Believe it or not, he’s always been like that, and I’ve always envied him for it. His ability to conceal any doubts he feels about himself and his actions.” 

“I…” Lyn frowned. “I’m a bit envious, too. It’s a good quality, to not hesitate. What I would give to have that...” She took a shaky breath. “Times like these only serve to show I’m not ready to even _think_ about ruling Caelin."

“I don’t think that’s true at all.” 

“Huh?” 

“You already have that quality, Lyndis. You’re a natural leader: sincere, honorable, confident... I'd sooner trust you than any of the Lycian League, and I know everyone here feels the same. Caelin is lucky to have you.”

She laughed in disbelief. “I, if you say so.” Shaking her head, Lyn regarded him with a soft smile. “You know, I don’t think you have any reason to be jealous of Hector either. You’re more than strong enough yourself.” 

"Hm?"

“Look at all that’s happened in the past few months. Especially for you, Eliwood. One horrible thing after another…” 

He tried hard to focus on Lyn’s voice, burying the distant, scalding feeling of blood soaking his hands.

“A lesser person would have fled long ago. Yet you’re still here. You didn’t run away. Through all the battles and injuries, you’ve held your head high and marched on. Your… Your strength I admire,” she closed her eyes, and Eliwood thought she had finished, but when they opened, they were brighter than any emerald he’d ever seen, “Your kindness… I adore.” 

… _Could she? Should I-_

He opened his mouth to respond, but found no words, except, “Lyndis…” 

She smiled. “You’re the only one here who calls me that.” 

“I, ah,” his mouth went dry. “Do you like it?”

“Very much so.” 

A strange feeling crept throughout his chest. He didn’t mind it. It must have been a musical emotion, as his heart started violently drumming against his chest. He’d usually shy away from such a harsh beat, but this was one he didn’t think he could ignore. Eliwood took a step forward, taking her hand in his. 

“Lyndis, I-” 

“Hey!”

A strangled noise escaped from Lyn, and as if he had burned her, she quickly dropped her hand and stepped away. 

Hector exasperatedly stared at them. “What are you two doing? Let’s go! _Both_ of you!” 

“W-well,” stuttered Lyn, “I guess we should go.” Without waiting for a response, she ran- _she’s actually running?_ \- ahead. 

“Uh, Lyndis?” He reached out for her, but she was already meters away. Not knowing what to do with his arm, he let it limply rest at his side. 

“Eliwood, what are you yammering about?” 

_Oaths be damned, Hector, oaths be damned._

“Huh? You’re mumbling, I can’t hear- are you feeling ok?” He guffawed and for the first time today, Hector's eyes were bright. “Well, I’ll be, you’re as red as your hair!”

Eliwood released a long-suffering sigh. 

__________________________

The last time he had been on this ship- to be honest, Eliwood could hardly remember it. It was only the little things he recalled. The dark clouds, light rain, a sullen atmosphere. Similar to their current state, but he knew it was different. To him, the difference lied with a newfound attitude and motivation. They were all determined. Scared they might be, but none of them were cowards. 

And then there was Fargus and his crew, brave but more appropriately, _crazy_ , enough to not even have the slightest hint of fear. 

They were good people. 

Eliwood knew the others believed that as well, and he was brought to a smile when he saw _her_ along the rim of the ship. 

Staring deeply into the water, Lyn was slumped over the edge. Yet, she was relaxed, and if she had any unease, Eliwood could confidently say it was from their impending mission, and not the present company. 

Still, he wondered what Lyn saw within the waters. If he were to join her, what would he see lurking beneath the depths? 

He walked to the edge and looked below. 

Gray waves were crashing against the ship and each other, with a sort of violence that made him think there was a storm coming. 

But that’s all there was. 

“The sky is darkening,” said Lyn. 

“And the fog is starting to set in. It’s certainly ominous.” 

She laughed. “That might be a bit of an understatement.” 

“Heh, probably.” 

From the direction of Valor, a lone current of wind came towards them. It was cold, and as Eliwood tried to suppress a shudder, Lyn instinctively leaned into him. He didn’t move away. 

“Do you think we can do it?”

Lyn was still staring at the water. “Defeat Nergal, you mean?”

He nodded. 

“Well, we have to try.” She lightly tapped her fingers on the wood, matching the rocking waves’ rhythm. “That’s all we really can do, I think. Holding on to what’s dear to us, and using that to keep us strong. We just might win through that.” 

“What’s dear..." 

Eliwood thought of his father and of Ninian- the severe weight of them in his arms, and how he could barely move because of the strain. But then, like a cool stream of air blowing in his face, he was reminded of Pherae and its people, of his friends, and of his mother. The last of his family. Her gentle eyes, her immense kindness, and how much worry she must have, he thought of it all. Eliwood was gripped by a sudden desire to be at her side. What was she feeling? What was she doing? 

He should have known these things. 

“What do you hold dear, Lyndis?”

She blinked at him. “Well... nothing is more important than family. My grandfather is constantly on my mind, even now. But I…” 

She looked back down. “You know, standing here, I don’t see the waves at all. I see memories of oceans of grass… the laughter we used to have, running where there was no end in sight… the feeling of the plains on my feet- I dream of it all. But then I wake up, and it’s gone.” Lyn lightly tapped her chest. Her hand hovered over her heart. “It’s in here, though. It always will be. And that’s why I’ll fight Nergal. To preserve my dream…. Do you think that’s selfish of me? Treasuring the plains, but not Caelin?” 

“Selfish? No, not at all.”

Wanting to be home was a natural thing. In the back of his mind, louder than the rippling of waves and the sails' rumbling, Pherae and his mother were calling for him. But not just them. Eliwood realized with a start that, when imaging home and what made it, he thought of Lyn. 

She smiled. "It's ok. I think it is." A dreamy, distant look washed over her face, and after a moment, she said, “Lycia isn’t all that bad. Sure, it's different and, at times, difficult, but I’ve reasons to stay now. My grandfather, my responsibilities, and…” 

"And?" he echoed. 

“We’d have to talk about what happened in Ostia before I say that.”

"Oh." Eliwood's face felt warm. "We haven’t spoken about that yet, have we? Would you… like to discuss it?”

Lyn looked at him with a guarded consideration. “No.” 

He tensed against the ship- a knee-jerk reaction- and the sudden movement almost made him fall over. 

Laughing, she helped steady him. “I meant no, _not_ _at the_ _moment_ , not _not at all_ ,” she amended. “Later. Once we’ve finished sorting some things out.” 

"Later," he weakly said. 

"Later." 

Eliwood closed his eyes. “I suppose I just made a bit of a fool of myself."

“Well, I thought it was rather cute. I could have phrased it better.” 

“...Maybe a little.” 

Lyn faced the waves, but her attention was centered solely on him. “Valor is getting close. We need to use this time to steel ourselves. I don’t know what’s going to happen, so for now, I’m content just being here with you. We don't need to talk about anything yet.” 

Lyn’s longing for the plains wasn’t the least bit selfish, in his opinion. But the thoughts swimming around in his head- really, thoughts that have been there for months- made him think _he_ was. Who was he to humor asking the sea to join the land? That was how selfish his wish was. But when he looked at her, the things he felt, and how she looked at him... it had to mean something. Eliwood supposed, if they were to emerge victorious, they'd reach that conversation together. 

Staring into the waves, he no longer saw the muddled grayness or even the ferocity in which they slammed into each other. Within the deep swirls, he saw a light. And before he knew it, the light expanded to an ever growing red storm, overcoming the waters. 

The ocean was set aflame. 

He blinked- the fire vanished. And there was gray, just… gray. That’s all there was. 

A few seconds passed before Eliwood noticed his side was burning. 

**Author's Note:**

> Eliwood makes me feel things. Lyn and Eliwood together make me feel things. It was inevitable that I would create such travesty. Thank you for indulging me!


End file.
